Shot in the Dark
by Screaming Faeries
Summary: The story of Regulus' life in his Seventh Year, and the tale of the conflicted relationship that begins, with the somewhat unhinged Bartemius Crouch Junior. The first chapter is a Christmas Gift for writhen heart, and co-written with Ophelia Joane. Current T, may change.


**A.N: (1) **Before anyone starts telling me that the characters are OOCish, I want to express my Barty/Regulus views. I like to think they were both a little different in Hogwarts. I think that Barty was nervous and nerdy because he was probably being bullied by his father - I imagine it was that which made Barty turn dark. I also imagine Regulus to be passive eaggressive and a little bit more Slytherin-like up until the point that he goes into the Death Eaters - and _then _realises what that was all about. So don't hate on me :D We can't really judge a character as being OOCish when we only read of them in their adulthood :)

**(2) **This is potentially going to be a multichap - I haven't decided yet. This first chapter (should it be a multichap) was co-written by me and Phoebe (Ophelia Joane) and was our Christmas Present to writhen heart. Hope you like it!

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><p>Visiting the library was something that I never planned on doing, during my time at Hogwarts.<p>

I was in my seventh year at Hogwarts, and I had never been in the musty old place - until old McGonagall jumped in, that is.

It wasn't _my _fault that I forgot to hand in my Transfiguration homework. It was her fault for giving me _one _night to complete the homework when she knew perfectly well that we had Quidditch practice.

"Well, Mr. Black - the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch Team also had Quidditch practice, but they all managed to hand in their homework - even Mr. Mulciber, over there," McGonagall had told me stiffly. What a twat - I had asked Mulciber that same night if I could copy his Transfiguration homework, and he'd told me he _also _couldn't do it. As I'd glared into the back of his head, I noticed his thick neck turning pink.

So, McGonagall had written me a note and sent me straight to the library, where I was reprimanded to spend the rest of the Transfiguration lesson researching Animagus. I had hoped that it would be an opportunity to just slack off for the rest of the lesson, maybe not even bother going to the library at all - but she told me that the librarian would be made aware in advance that I would be arriving, and if I were to avoid going, there would be _dire _consequences.

I was muttering angrily to myself about these supposed dire consequences, while I mindlessly browsed through the Human Transfiguration section, waiting to land on the word 'animagus'. Truth be told, I wasn't even really paying attention then - I could only think of the amazing Wronski-Feint move that I had managed to perfect at practice the previous night...

No-one saw it coming. I had evaded the Beaters, soared about five-hundred feet into the air. I hovered there for a little while, and then dropped - madly and suddenly, nose-down to the earth. Mulciber, who had been acting as the opposite team seeker, saw me dashing to the ground. He had also made a mad, ferocious lunge (not really the move of choice for someone his size). I was about two metres from the ground when I yanked my broom up and was flying horizontal again, but Mulciber, the stupid idiot just carried on going, and going, until-

_CRASH!_

Something had collided with the back of my knees, sending me soaring out of my daydream, and landing head into a bookcase. Parchment and heavy old volumes fell down around me, leaving me with a sheen of dust on my face and head. I blinked in shock for a few moments, before hearing a trill of female laughter.

Over in the the other corner of the library, a group of Slytherin sixth years had been watching me. I recognised them, as the group of them were _always _following me around, lingering around me and lurking behind corners. I thought they were just trying to irate me, until Walden MacNair had told me that the leader of the group, Sky Parkinson, was hoping to bag a date with me to the Christmas Ball.

"Enjoy your trip, Reg?" Sky catcalled across the library. Her friends - Rita Skeeter, Tessa Zabini, and Adelaide Nott all tittered in response. They were clearly bitter at being rejected during Christmas. I scowled, and made an obscene hand gesture - right as the vulture-like librarian rounded the corner, and hissed at us. The girls had, conveniently, vanished from sight as she arrived.

"I'm sorry, Regulus," a voice whispered. I had managed to get to my feet, and I was brushing myself off. I turned around to glare at the speaker.

It was a Slytherin boy - I knew that from the Slytherin crest on the breast of his robes, and the green and silver tie that he wore, fastened tightly at his neck. Most of the other students didn't bother to fasten their top buttons; most didn't bother to do up their ties at all - so it was unusual to see someone, especially a _Slytherin_, to be making this nerdy fashion statement. He was about a head shorter than me, and was blinking awkwardly at me with shining, beguiling brown eyes. His hair hung untidily in his face; it was the appearance and texture of straw, but was light brown in colour. He was clutching an armful of books and parchment, and was standing nervously next to a chair, that had also been upturned along with the bookcase.

"I didn't know you were there...I was...I was just getting up to put my books back…" the boy muttered, a little hoarsely. He swallowed, and I became aware that I was watching his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. I shook my head, and tried to make sense of the situation.

"It was you that pushed me over?" I asked, not meaning to sound as aggressive as I came across.

"It was an accident. I'm sorry," the boy went to grab the remaining few items, and spun around on his heel. I snatched his shoulder before he could rush off.

"Wait a minute, who are you? Why don't I know you?"

"My name is Barty."

"Are you a new student?"

He shuffled from each foot, looking uncomfortable. "No. I've been here the whole time. I'm in the year below you, Regulus."

We were silent for a few moments - I was feeling slightly confused, trying to work out if I'd ever met this kid before - at least passed him in the common room or _something_. Barty was fingering a torn piece of the parchment in his arms, and avoiding my eye contact.

I didn't really know what I was thinking, but one thing was certain. I was pretty sure I wouldn't mind bumping into him again.

"Do you come here often?" I asked, suddenly. I regretted it almost the minute the words left my mouth. He cocked an eyebrow at me (I was surprised he made such a conceited move - I expected him to be shy and nervous from the offset).

"To the library?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, the Pyramid of Giza."

The ghost of a grin passed across Barty's lips, before he rubbed them together prominently. "Yes. Well, I, er, gotta go," and with that last note, Barty dashed towards the exit of the library, his robes trailing out behind him.

As I watched him dart off, I couldn't help but inwardly thank McGonagall for sending me to the library, that day.


End file.
